


The Widowermaker

by EtchJetty



Series: Etch's Sketches - A One-Shot Collection [5]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Rednex
Genre: Gen, Song: Cotton-Eyed Joe, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtchJetty/pseuds/EtchJetty
Summary: James learns more about his wife's killer. You are reminded of middle school gym class.





	The Widowermaker

“I was the same as anyone else. Happy, stupid. A little drunk. I stepped onto the altar and was about to say ‘I do’ when he took the shot.”

“He?” responded the detective.

“They call him... the Widowermaker.” James took a sip of his brandy. Good stuff. He looked the detective sitting across from him in the eye, as if daring him to interrupt his drink. The sounds of the seedy bar they sat in barely permeated the bubble of tension the pair sat in. The taste of the brandy lingered on James’ tongue before he cleared his throat to continue.

“I had only heard the same vague rumors everyone else had,” continued James. “Brides disappearing at the altar. Never seen since. People who attend the weddings all have different stories. Some said the bride was fed up and ran away. One person said she had had a heart attack, and was carried away in an ambulance right then and there. Every wedding, every bride, different stories. No attendant can ever agree with another. Of course, there was no footage online, so it wasn’t widely believed or reported on. Just occasionally popped up on fringe wedding forums.”

The detective scribbled something down and looked at James. “Why don’t we return to your experience with this... Widowermaker?”

James took another sip. God, he needed it. If only Elizabeth were here.

“The moment he pulled the trigger, Elizabeth collapsed. A bullet through her heart. Right there in front of the crowd. Of course, I’m the only one who remembers it like that.”

James sipped his brandy again. Tears filled his eyes. He blamed the brandy.

“But listen to me, detective. I _saw_ him. He stood there, right in the middle of the aisle. Wore a suit. Had something white stuffed in one of his eyes. I don’t know for sure. It could have been cotton, it could have been a bad glass eye. But I do know he was missing an eye.”

“An eye?” said the detective.

“An eye,” said James.

The sound of a pen scribbling across a page echoed into James’ ears. The detective leaned back when he was done.

“Anything else?” he said.

“What do you mean, anything else?” James asked.

“I mean body type. Height. Hair. Clothes. Anything else distinctive, identifiable.”

James thought for a moment.

“I don’t remember,” he said.

The detective sighed. “Of course not.”

“I’m sorry,” said James. “It was a long time ago.”

The detective smiled weakly. “It’s fine. I’ve been tracking disappearances at weddings for years now. I was lucky to even get that detail.”

James frowned. “Years? I wasn’t even aware The Wedding Killer was active that long.”

The detective shook his head. “Not many people are.” He looked in one direction, and then the other, then leaned across the table to whisper to James.

“I was a maître d' at one of the first weddings he struck at. Needed to pay the bills for law school, so I got a part-time job catering. I gave him mini hotdogs. He gave me a tip. I asked his name. ‘Joe,’ he said. ‘Just Joe?’ I had asked. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.

“Then he went and killed the bride. Shot her three times with an assault rifle. That was the first time I saw someone die in front of me, and it wasn’t the last.”

“I’m sorry,” said James.

“Don’t be,” said the detective. “It was years ago. I’ve grown up since then.” The detective returned to his seat.

“Do you know where he came from? Where he went?” asked James. “You’ve been doing this for years. I only heard about him on the internet.”

“I wish I could tell you. Your story was the biggest breakthrough I’ve had in months,” said the detective.

The conversation didn’t provide any more important details for either of its participants from that point on. As James left the bar, somewhat satisfied he’d been able to help the detective find his wife’s killer, he rethought the new information he had learned.

_Nobody knows who he is. All they have is his name and a stuffed eye._

James shook his head, bitter tears beginning to form. _If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I’d been married a long time ago._

James looked at the sky. It was going to rain, soon. _Where did you come from, where did you go?_

_Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?_


End file.
